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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370425">Hair-Based Seduction Techniques</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple'>94BottlesOfSnapple</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Foggy Nelson, Bisexual Matt Murdock, College era, Hair Braiding, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:48:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy decides that what Matt needs to counteract his short-lived romantic relationships is to learn how to braid hair. Like most of Foggy's other silly but harmless whims, Matt indulges him.</p>
<p>And realizes he's not quite as straight as he thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Foggy Nelson's Unfairly Soft Hair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Foggy, I need to study,” Matt insisted, though not as firmly as he’d intended; a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth and he couldn’t quite force the expression down.</p><p>“What you <em>need</em> is to learn a new life skill, buddy. Studying for Thompson’s midterm can wait, it’s not for another two weeks. Now c’mere, how are you gonna score a girlfriend if you can’t even braid her hair? That’s like domestic sexiness 101.”</p><p>“I’m not sure domestic sexiness is my style,” retorted Matt, just to be contrary — but he did stretch, stand from his desk, and shuffle over to Foggy’s bed.</p><p>“Which is why despite your impossible good looks and charming personality you’ve just been living a year-long string of one night stands. You deserve more than that, dude, and it starts here.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure how to argue with Foggy that he was perfectly happy with the one night stands. It was tough to feel lonely or starved for affection with Foggy for a best friend, after all. But then again, it wasn’t like it was exactly a chore to indulge Foggy’s silly whims. Matt often enjoyed it, actually.</p><p>“Ok, ok, you win, Fogs.” He lifted his hands, flexing his fingers a little. “Gimme your hair.”</p><p>There was a swish of the hair in question as Foggy shook his head.</p><p>“Absolutely not,” he insisted. “There’s a process to this, you heathen. Hair-braiding is a sacred ritual, you never ever do it standing up. Sit. I’m pointing at the bed very authoritatively.”</p><p>Foggy was using that imperious mock-serious tone he always tended to slip into whenever he lectured Matt about things he’d been ‘woefully deprived of, Jesus, Matt, did the nuns outlaw fun or something?’ Matt hadn’t really had the heart to tell him it was nothing to do with the nuns — Matt himself just wasn’t a very sociable kid. Part of that was a natural shyness he’d never quite overcome. Part of it was his blindness; or rather, the way people treated him because of it. Part of it was Stick. Foggy was the first person in Matt’s life, post-Stick, who’d really managed to slip past the walls he put up to keep the world out. So of course Foggy was the first one to do a lot of things with him. That didn’t mean he was deprived, though.</p><p>“Matt? Bud? You with me?”</p><p>Matt jolted out of his thoughts and gave a jerky nod.</p><p>“Um. Bed, right?” he asked, fumbling for the mattress and patting it a few times before sitting down on the edge. “Sacred ritual. I’m with you.”</p><p>“Yup, and the sacred ritual includes sitting crisscross applesauce, so get those shapely legs up here, Murdock.”</p><p>Matt grinned, shaking his head and kicking off his shoes.</p><p>“Oh, well,” he said indulgently, pulling his legs up onto the bed and crossing them, resting his hands on his ankles. “If that’s how it’s done.”</p><p>“Yup! Perfect. Here, I’ll do one up first so you can get your feelers on it before you try one,” Foggy offered.</p><p>Matt had touched a braid before — run his fingertips over one in some ex or other’s hair — but he didn’t say so to Foggy; no need to ruin his fun. Instead, Matt just nodded. The sounds of Foggy braiding were quiet and rhythmic, and every shift of his hair sent a slight waft of shampoo scent — green apple — in Matt’s direction. There was a snap of elastic as Foggy tied the braid off, and Matt was already lifting his hands. Which was fine. Normal. Foggy had soft hair. Matt had noticed, that was all, because Foggy was a touchy-feely sort of guy. Matt did not have a problem.</p><p>Their fingers brushed as Foggy passed the length of braided hair into Matt’s waiting grasp. The pattern of the braid was about half an inch wide, and the over-under sequence continued evenly the entire length of the plait. When he reached the hair band, Matt dropped his thumb to run it over the ends of Foggy’s hair.</p><p>“You just pass the strands on the outside over the middle one,” Foggy explained cheerfully. “Make them the new middle strand, basically. First left, then right, then left again. Make sense?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Matt let go of the braid. “Yeah, makes sense.”</p><p>“Great! Let me just, I’ll move so this braid won’t be in your way — let you at the left side of my hair instead.”</p><p>Foggy turned, and his knee brushed one of Matt’s — he was sitting with his legs crossed too, apparently. Part of the sacred ritual, Matt thought with a fond grin. When he was situated, Foggy tapped the back of Matt’s hand. In turn, Matt offered up his arms, palm out, and his fingers were gently guided to Foggy’s hair. One of Matt’s fingertips brushed the shell of Foggy’s ear while he was gathering a section of hair to work with, and they both shivered a little. Which was normal. Ears were sensitive and didn’t usually get touched.</p><p>Matt shook his head and began working on a braid.</p>
<hr/><p>“That’s too loose, man, you’ve gotta hold all three strands at once to keep it tight.”</p><p>“I don’t have three hands,” Matt complained.</p><p>“Good, because if you did that’d be pretty freaky,” retorted Foggy good-naturedly. “Look, you’ve just gotta shuffle them a little. Once you cross one strand into the middle, slip it between your other fingers so you can keep moving the next one, that’s all.”</p><p>Which, sure, sounded easy enough, but it wasn’t at all. Matt fumbled and lost his grip on the strands of his braid six more times before Foggy finally let him tie it off. It wasn’t a smooth, tight plait like the one Foggy had done, but at least it held together.</p><p>“It’ll do,” Foggy declared magnanimously. “You’re awesome enough that even a sloppy braid is probably ok. It’s really more about the journey anyway, not the result.”</p><p>Matt shook his head, chuckling.</p><p>“The journey?”</p><p>“The <em>journey</em>,” repeated Foggy firmly. “Running your hands through her hair. That’s the whole point, and it’s way more important than the braid because it’s, like, intimate and sexy.”</p><p>Matt sighed, though his mouth continued to try to pull into a smile.</p><p>“It didn’t seem very intimate or sexy to me,” he pointed out.</p><p>“Of course it didn’t, dude,” said Foggy. “First off, you’re still learning — you’re concentrated on the braid itself rather than making the braiding momentous. Plus, we’re just buddies. The vibe is totally different with someone you’ve got the hots for.”</p><p>“A vibe of domestic sexiness?” Matt ventured just to tease him.</p><p>“Precisely, Murdock, precisely.”</p><p>Nodding, Matt plucked at the seam of his sweatpants.</p><p>“Sure, and you achieve that by, by playing more with the hair instead of just braiding, right?”</p><p>“Now you’re getting it!” Foggy agreed.</p><p>“Well, if that’s the important part, I can’t skimp on it,” said Matt very reasonably.</p><p>As predicted, Foggy laughed.</p><p>“I knew you were hiding the heart of a romantic under all those playboy moves,” he bragged, slugging Matt lightly in the shoulder. “Ok, go for it. But just know, it takes a lot to make Foggy Nelson swoon.”</p><p>The grin was so evident in Foggy’s voice that Matt could almost see it in his mind’s eye.</p><p>“Here, turn— turn around,” he said suddenly, without quite meaning to. “That’s the best way to do it, right?”</p><p>It was just another part of the joke. Because it wouldn’t be sexy or anything. Like Foggy had said, they were friends, not. You know. So it would be funny instead, over the top and silly, like when Foggy had called Matt ‘honeybunch’ in a goofy voice to tease the guy in their Poli Sci class that asked if they were dating.</p><p>“Good instincts,” Foggy agreed cheerfully. “Here let me… I’ll get these two braids out so you have more to work with, then…”</p><p>The sheets rustled and the bed dipped as he moved. One of the hair bands was pressed into Matt’s hand, and he slipped it over his wrist for safekeeping. Then, when Foggy indicated he was ready, Matt buried his fingers in Foggy’s hair, massaged his scalp a little as he gathered strands together in his opposite hand. There was a soft, barely-audible sigh — and then, louder, a pleased groan.</p><p>Matt swallowed. His own heart was pounding so hard in his ears that he couldn’t hear Foggy’s. The joke didn’t seem so funny anymore.</p><p>“Maybe I should ask for a shoulder rub while you’re at it,” mused Foggy, leaning back a little. “Your hands are super firm. Plus I have this kink in my neck from falling asleep at my desk this morning.”</p><p>“I thought this was about bettering my relationship skills,” Matt pointed out, still somehow able to muster a wry, teasing tone despite how dry his mouth had gone. “Are you just taking advantage of me?”</p><p>“That’s such a mercenary way to put it!”</p><p>“I’m not hearing a denial.”</p><p>Nonetheless, Matt continued to comb his fingers through Foggy’s hair, smoothing out the few tangles he found. He was surprisingly calm; his hands didn’t shake at all as he worked, splitting the hair he’d gathered into three sections. It was reassuring to know at least part of him was under control, considering he was pretty sure he was going through some kind of— gay crisis or something.</p><p>It was easier, working with larger sections. Matt wasn’t nearly as clumsy, and he finished the braid quickly.</p><p>He tied it off with the elastic band he’d put over his wrist and then, daringly, brought it to his lips. Foggy’s hair, soft and sleek against Matt’s fingers, felt somehow impossibly softer against his mouth. Would every part of him feel softer, Matt wondered, and his head spun at the thought of slotting their lips together the way he did with pretty-smelling girls at parties.</p><p>“Matty? You done?”</p><p>Foggy’s voice was unaffected, and it sliced through Matt’s ridiculous fantasy like a hot knife through butter. He dropped the braid, hands shaking.</p><p>“Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah, it’s. It’s done.”</p><p>The bed creaked and shifted as Foggy moved. There was a quiet rasp of skin on hair.</p><p>“Oh, wow! Nice work, my young padawan — I think you just leveled up in hair braiding.”</p><p>“And the sexiness?” Matt asked, like an idiot.</p><p>“Hey, if I was one of your one-night-stands, I’d definitely put out again after a braid like this,” came the laughing reply, followed by a groan, the sound of Foggy’s back popping, and the bed dipping more deeply as he turned to face Matt again. “Maybe even agree to a second date, which is the real goal.”</p><p>Matt could feel the heat creeping agonizingly up his cheeks, to the tips of his ears, and hoped it wasn’t as apparent to Foggy’s eyes as it felt. There was nothing particularly graphic or descriptive in the words ‘put out’ and yet Matt couldn’t choke out a reply past the lump in his throat. He sat rigidly, resisting the urge to squirm.</p><p>“Well,” he managed finally, with a herculean effort. “Mission accomplished.”</p><p>“I’d return the favor,” said Foggy, tapping Matt on the shoulder and then smoothing his hand up to ruffle Matt’s hair, “but there’s not much here to work with on the braiding front.”</p><p>Matt tried for a laugh, but it came out more like a strangled wheeze. Everywhere Foggy touched felt electric — Matt’s whole skull lit up with singing nerves.</p><p>“I’m not gonna grow it out,” he managed to say with a relatively steady voice and a probably-less-steady smile.</p><p>“You’d end up with a mullet and look terrible,” agreed Foggy, still petting Matt’s hair. “Then you wouldn’t even get all those girls swooning over how hot you are, they’d be too embarrassed by your haircut. That’s fine, buddy, it just takes a certain kind of man to rock long hair the way I do.”</p><p>Matt was hit with a sudden urge to bury his hands in that long hair, then bear Foggy back onto the bed and, and—</p><p>And Matt was going to die. He’d only even considered what kissing Foggy would be like two minutes ago and it was already taking over his brain. How was he going to function if it didn’t stop? Was that what the really conservative nuns meant about gayness being contagious?</p><p>No. No, that was silly.</p><p>The mind controls the body, Matt reminded himself. He just needed to focus and control his mind, then he’d stop thinking about it and everything would go back to normal.</p><p>Foggy finally removed his hand from Matt’s hair, which thankfully returned a couple of his higher brain functions to working order. Including the one to help him remember he was part of a conversation where it was his turn to speak.</p><p>“Considering that horrible, scratchy goatee you had when we met, I’m not sure I entirely trust your judgment on attractive hair,” he said at last with the rude grin that usually made Foggy threaten to thump him with a pillow.</p><p>Foggy huffed.</p><p>“Ok, I admit the goatee was terrible,” he said. “But chicks really do dig the long hair— Oh, shit! Speaking of girls, I’ve got a date I’m gonna be late for! Shit, shit, shit—”</p><p>There was a whirlwind of movement and noise, as Foggy leapt off the bed and began stumbling around the room. A thump of shoes being kicked and then slid on, a jingle of metal—</p><p>“Ok, wallet, phone, keys…!” Foggy muttered, and the slightly-heavier swish of the braid in his hair mixed with the scent of his shampoo made something in Matt’s chest squeeze. “Here I go, see you later, Matt!”</p><p>With a quick but heart-stopping smack of lips to Matt’s temple that Matt wasn’t even sure Foggy registered doing, he was out the door. Matt sat very, very still for approximately three minutes, and then flopped backwards onto Foggy’s bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his burning face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Marci Stahl Isn't Paid Enough For This (Or At All)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Foggy had another date. That was, that was good. It was good that Foggy was dating because it meant that someone appreciated how great he was.</p>
<p>Matt also appreciated how great Foggy was — probably more than Foggy’s new girlfriend ever could — but that was... It wasn’t what Foggy wanted, because all he had talked about for the last week was <em>Jennifer</em>. Jennifer was so smart, and Jennifer was so funny, and Jennifer had ‘this smile, Matt, holy shit it just knocks you out’, and going on a date with Jennifer was apparently more important than going out to celebrate Matt ‘obliterating the grade curve yet again, you asshole’ the way Foggy always insisted on doing after midterms.</p>
<p>Matt was fine though.</p>
<p>He was fine. He wasn’t so clingy and pathetic that he couldn’t go out and get a little tipsy and have a nice night on his own.</p>
<p>Just. One drink. Two drinks. They went by faster without Foggy there to talk to. Three. Four? Maybe. Four wasn’t a big number, right? It was fine. Fine. And the more Matt drank, the less the rest of the bar bothered him — less smells, sounds, tastes. He didn’t even have to work to block them out because. Because he couldn’t focus, and his brain just let them muddle into the background. White noise. It was great.</p>
<p>But it also meant he didn’t have any warning when Marci Stahl plopped down next to him at the bar.</p>
<p>“Hello, Matthew.”</p>
<p>Matt snorted, grinned. Only the nuns and Marci ever called him Matthew.</p>
<p>“Marci <em>Stahl</em>,” Matt drawled, stretching her name because it seemed like the thing to do. “You smell like. Vanilla.”</p>
<p>There was a long pause.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Marci asked at last.</p>
<p>“I don’t, I don’t know,” declared Matt. “You’ll have to tell me what it looks like.”</p>
<p>He tapped the frame of his glasses then, to make his point, but it jostled them crooked on his face. He spent too long to be reasonable trying to get them straight again.</p>
<p>“All by your lonesome?” Marci asked before flagging down a bartender and ordering her drink. “No Foggy Bear tonight?”</p>
<p>“He’s on a date,” Matt told her. “With Jennifer. It’s fine.” He crinkled his nose. “I mean good.”</p>
<p>“That’s right, Jen Walters...”</p>
<p>Marci hummed thoughtfully. Her drink arrived. It smelled like it had one <em>million</em> teaspoons of sugar in it in the form of strawberry liqueur. Matt yearned.</p>
<p>“Get your own,” Marci told him because she was a mind-reading vampire of the night.</p>
<p>Wait. Weren’t all vampires ‘of the night’? Probably, right, since they exploded or. Turned to dust or something during the day. Marci didn’t do that, obviously but the vampirism was in her aura or something.</p>
<p>Matt took a sip of his whiskey sour and winced. He yearned more blatantly.</p>
<p>“And one for this idiot,” Marci told the bartender at last, wearily.</p>
<p>And so Matt got his strawberry abomination.</p>
<p><em>See</em>, he thought to himself, <em>it’s not so bad without Foggy.</em></p>
<p>The new drink had a different shape — the glass it was in had a stem. And a straw. Fancy. Matt traced his fingers slowly through the condensation on the outside bowl of it while he drank.</p>
<p>He did still miss Foggy though. Even if Foggy was probably having too much fun with Jennifer to miss<em> him</em>. They were on a date so. So they were probably kissing. Which was fine. That was fine. People who were dating did that.</p>
<p>But what if Foggy braided her hair? What then? They’d fall in love and get married and Matt would be alone forever with his stupid not-going-away thoughts about kissing Foggy on the mouth and everything would be <em>terrible</em>.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” Marci said, and then again, muffled — probably by her hand. “Oh my god. Murdock. No. Why are you telling me this.”</p>
<p>Matt blinked, furrowed his brows. Had he been telling her something?</p>
<p>“I am... Very drunk,” he realized.</p>
<p>“I think that might be an understatement,” Marci replied.</p>
<p>Then there were fingers — nice fingers, with long manicured nails — tugging the glass out of his grip. Matt flexed his hand mournfully but didn’t try to grab it back.</p>
<p>“Come on, Murdock, up you get,” Marci muttered from right next to his ear, hauling one of his arms over her shoulders. “Foggy Bear would never forgive me if I just left you here to die.”</p>
<p>Matt snorted, staggering to his feet. He wasn’t going to die. He was just very. Just very drunk. Much more drunk than he planned to be, ever in his whole entire life.</p>
<p>After paying, they stumbled out the door, Matt’s cane skittering on the sidewalk in front of them for a few steps before he gave up trying to use it.</p>
<p>Marci was tiny. Not, not the <em>tiniest</em>, but still almost half a foot shorter than him. She didn’t make a very good crutch.</p>
<p>“And you make a terrible love rival,” she muttered, “but you don’t hear me complaining.”</p>
<p>“I hear everything,” Matt managed to tell her, struggling to push the words past uncooperative lips that wanted to spread into a grin instead.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah? Do you hear how stupid you sound pining over Foggy like a sad duckling?”</p>
<p>“Mm not a duck.”</p>
<p>“Sure, whatever you say,” Marci told him like she didn’t believe him.</p>
<p>Matt wanted to argue his point but the words got too jumbled up in his head and didn’t make it to his mouth. But talking about Foggy was easy. He didn’t even have to make the words go into the right places, they just did it on their own like they wanted to be out there in the open air.</p>
<p>“I am a hundred percent sure you didn’t know this about yourself two weeks ago,” Marci pointed out when they reached the dorms. “You’re about as self-aware as the average tardigrade. What gives?”</p>
<p>So Matt told her about Foggy’s soft, soft hair, and the braiding thing, and domestic sexiness.</p>
<p>“I think I want to touch his dick,” he concluded as he handed over his room key to Marci, even though he’d barely had the courage to <em>think</em> something that sexual up to this point.</p>
<p>Everything was easier when he was drunk. He forgot the reasons why it was scary to admit to these things.</p>
<p>“Well, suck it up, Murdock. You’ve got a long wait ahead of you. Foggy Bear’s got it bad for Jen, he’s really invested. She’s a sweet girl and he’s not the kinda guy who’d cheat — so neither of us are gonna be sleeping with him anytime soon.”</p>
<p>“We could, though,” Matt suggested, still dizzy and a little out of his own head — enough sense left in him to realize it was a bad idea, but not why. “I mean. You and I. With each other.”</p>
<p>Marci smelled nice when her scent wasn’t covering Foggy. And her hands were pretty; moved with firm confidence and grace as she manhandled him down to a sitting position on his bed. According to Foggy, she was very, very good at sex. It could be nice.</p>
<p>But the response to his proposition wasn’t agreement, it was a frustrated sigh.</p>
<p>“I don’t fuck drunk people, Murdock, they can’t consent. Now drink your water.”</p>
<p>She shoved the open mouth of a water bottle against his lower lip. When he went to grab it from her, he almost dropped it. With a sigh, Marci smacked his hand away and took the bottle back, so he sat there and let her feed him with careful sips — like a mom with a sick kid, he imagined. The nuns had never done anything like that. Not that they were uncaring or bad people, but Matt supposed it had to be hard for them. Especially with so many kids to look after. And he’d been too old for that kind of treatment by then anyway.</p>
<p>Dad had fed him chicken soup once, when Matt was seven-and-a-half with a very bad strain of flu.</p>
<p>Thinking about that time made the way Marci was helping him drink the water, which at first had some distant part of his brain flashing with embarrassment, become something comforting. Left him warm, and sleepy.</p>
<p>By the time the bottle was empty, Matt’s head was dipping down towards his chest. There was another sigh that preceded Marci kneeling down to unlace Matt’s shoes and tug them off for him like he was a grade schooler. He probably had about the coordination of one, as drunk as he was.</p>
<p>“Y’ d’n hafta do that,” he told her.</p>
<p>“I’m rolling my damn eyes.” There was a light push on his shoulder, and Matt sunk back into the bed, rolled onto his side. “Go to sleep, Murdock.”</p>
<p>“Mm gonna tell people you’re secretly nice,” Matt threatened between yawns, tucking his knees up near his chin.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Marci scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “And who the fuck would believe you?”</p>
<p>Likely no one. Not even Foggy, even though he probably knew how secretly nice Marci was, because he also knew she and Matt hated each other, so. So he’d think something silly, like Matt lost a bet or was— replaced by a robot. He tried to tell Marci about the robot thing through another yawn because she always thought Foggy being ridiculous was cute, but was out before he could finish the thought.</p>
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